The Madness Between The Notes
by LovelyCosmos
Summary: Roderich Edelstein is a highly noted and prestigious composer living in Vienna during the year of 1767. Often taking commissions, he is offered a job he just cannot refuse. It may be the piece that initially drives him to insanity attempting to compose. With uncertainties rising while suspicious instances and people arise, will the composer finish his work or die trying?
1. Enlightened Yet Lost, Respectively

**Author's Note:** Hello! This is Yuripee (aka LovelyComos) with a new fan fiction! This is my first fanfiction in over a year, and it does feel refreshing to write it again. I do hope that you enjoy and I do look at adding chapters to it in the future. I have already rated this "M" for content later in the story, possibly for language and violence but this story will not contain any explicit scenes of sex, or any graphic descriptions of it.

As for the first chapter, there is nothing "M" rated about it. When chapters contain this in the future, I will put a warning in this top Author's Note bar. There are notes at the bottom of the page, after the story for all words bolded and italicized (foreign language words) and all words italicized with a star* (historical references). Enjoy! :)

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_The Madness Between The Notes_

_Chapter One: Enlightened Yet Lost, Respectively._

It was once said by someone very wise and fairly observant that _all artists are mad in some way or anothe_r, or for that matter_ anyone who is remotely interesting is_ _mad_. Who said it first doesn't matter now, it's been said by so many over the course of time. There are many who fit under the statements above perfectly, in fact, a bit too much so for the normal human to stand. However, this story will examine the mind and final masterpiece of one fairly insane man, the one called _The Plagued Pianist._

His name was Roderich Edelstein. Famed and prosperous, the year was 1767 and Roderich was at the height of his career as a composer. At this point mentally stable and enjoying all the fine upper class activities and festivities of the Viennese upper class. Vienna was a wondrous place to be Roderich Edelstein. He was called often to compose for the emperor, he wrote plays and symphonies, sometimes dabbling with this or that. He was considered the finest virtuoso among the public.

"A fine morning to you, Mr. Edelstein. _**Gruss Gott**_!" An upperclassman man greeted Roderich on a sunny morning during December.

"And to you as well, fine sir!" Roderich smiled and waved, walking in the direction opposite of the man. To be quite honest he had no clue or who the man was, but it didn't matter to him. The pianist simply didn't care and there is something to be said for that. Irritated he was, apathetic he was becoming, and late to a meeting currently. Friendly greetings was something the virtuoso just didn't have time for.

Walking along the streets, Roderich let his tailcoat flow behind him and walked at a fast pace that made some of the strolling citizens stop and look. This irritated the musician ever more simply because he was aware of the fact that they knew who he was and most certainly the folk are not those who keep their suspicions to themselves. Huffing and pushing his glasses further up his nose, Roderich turned the corner and soon found himself opening the doors to a small cafe where he was meeting a client. A client looking to pay money for a masterpiece from the great Edelstein. Roderich smiled to himself and walked into the cafe making eye contact with the first man he saw. Yes, that was his client, he knew right from the start. Long blond hair, flamboyant clothing, the air and arrogance of an upperclassman, but not Austrian. No, no, most certainly not Austrian.

"_**Bonjour**_. The great and prestigious Roderich Edelstein, what a wonder for my eyes to see, and what a privilege for you to take a commission from me. Please sit and let's discuss over a cup of tea." The non-Austrian client spoke, his eyes sparkling with anticipation that was not shown on the rest of his face.

"Coffee, thank you. And, while you may be interested in _me_ does not mean that I am interested in_ you_, let's keep that in mind, oh Bonaparte, was it?"

"_**Non**_, Bonnefoy. Francis Bonnefoy, if you care for full names. Simply judging by the fact you are here, I am not mistaken when I say that you received my letter and interest in your comission." The man spoke. Francis Bonaparte, a wealthy, enlightened man who was very pleased with himself. He was extremely proud and thought the world was in his hands, and slept at night with the thought in his mind that he understand the workings of the universe far better than those below him in the social structure.

"Why bother traveling here to to see me if Paris is such an enlightened place?" Roderich questioned as his coffee was set in front of him by a waitress, who recognized him and took the opportunity to speak.

"Oh, it that you? Mr Edelstein?! I admire the your works, your symphonies, and your plays! The piano pieces! Fantastic they are! I know I'm just a lowly waitress, but if I may ask, do you give lessons? I'd love to learn piano, it has been a dream of mine since I was a little girl. I wish to someday compose my own works as well." The girl smiled, hoping she wasn't asking for too much.

Roderich smiled and went to respond "Well, I-"

"Lowly woman! A composer? You think yourself in the educational realm of dominance? How appalling!" Francis scoffed, taking a sip of his tea.

The waitress was too upset and shocked at the French Parisian man to speak so Roderich spoke instead. "What? What is this that you speak of? An educational realm of dominance? Care to expand, Monsieur Bonnefoy?" He spoke the French man's name with a tone of condescension and irritation at his outburst. Roderich had heard about the new ideals and the _ Age of Reason*_ that many raved about but never cared. Music and composing beckoned him, he didn't care to waste time with useless information like the concept of _laissez-faire economics*_ and the art of being_ cosmopolitan*_.

"My, my, Mr. Edelstein this surprises me! You are among the privileged upper class, correct? Haven't you heard of the wondrous works of_ Rousseau*_?" Francis looked at Roderich with surprise. "Aren't you enlightened, _**mon ami**_?"

"No, I do not care for concepts and ideals formed by others. You follow their works like sheep, yet seldom think of alternatives? What a waste of good energy and lack of thought! Enlightenment? Don't make me laugh! But this.. this_ Rosseau_, remind me again of his "enlightened ideals" and how much_ they've_ _changed you._" This time Roderich scoffed and took a sip of his coffee, noticing that the waitress had disappeared.

"Well, I can spare a moment to explain a thing or two for the unenlightened. _ Rousseau_ wrote a very informative_ treatise on education*_. You see, men are dominant in education and are free to embrace the sciences and the liberal arts. However, women are inferior and should be taught to submit to man and run the trivial things of the household."

"Ridiculous!" Roderich shouted, turning a few heads in the cafe.

"And you think differently?"

"Well, yes."

"May I ask why,_** Herr Edelstein**_?" Francis responded with the same condescension Roderich had used earlier, which made the composer more irritated and angry than he had ever been with a client.

"Your thoughts are petty. Why would I turn down a student just because it's a young lady when they are paying me for my services! What fool would let money run through their fingertips just because someone has breasts and the ability to bear children?"

"Your ideals are appalling." Francis picked lint off his flamboyant clothing with disgust.

"And you are enlightened yet lost, respectively."

"Will this in anyway affect the commission?"

"Possibly, just make your offer good enough to make me change my mind." Roderich leaned in and folded his hands on the table. He was eager to quit speaking of petty opinions and ideals and get to why he met the Frenchman in the first place. Commission and money.

"Well, yes. I want you to write a_ requiem*_ for my mother. She is dying."

"My sincerest condolences. When will you need this by?" The composer was now straight to the point with Francis, already tired of him.

"Well, here's the thing, she wants to hear what will be played at her funeral."

"Most certainly corpses don't have the pleasure or privilege of hearing."

"She's not dead yet, fool!" Francis snapped, and quickly recomposed himself and continued. "She would like to hear it from you while you're composing it, which would mean you would need to be in Paris."

"Paris? And leave my dearest Vienna behind? I think not." Roderich folded his handkerchief and gently dabbed it along his face, as if he was concluding his meal and preparing to leave.

"I'll give you your own apartment and whatever supplies needed. Double the salary I offered in my letter. My mother wishes for it to be no one other than you. If you will, please accept. You may return to Vienna after the requiem is complete."

This offer impressed Roderich. He had received none other like it. Even if the man was a little off with his ideals, he could be bearable long enough to complete the task at hand. And a requiem seemed simple enough, after all that the prestigious composer had accomplished. Double the salary was enticing as well. It was too fine of a deal for the great Roderich Edelstein not to accept, even if it meant moving to Paris for a short while. Vienna was dear to his heart, but it would always be there waiting for him.

"I accept. And only on one condition." Roderich stated, pushing his glasses on his nose and straightening the purple fabric of his jacket.

"And what is that?" Francis smiled, having getting what he wanted after traveling all the way to Vienna.

"You shut up about your ideals."

Francis laughed pushed his bright, blond hair from his face. "You may get me to shut up about my ideals but not the others! Haven't you heard that Paris is the center of the Enlightenment?"

"Well, thank God I shall be getting paid double to stand people like you."

"Certainly."

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Hello again! This is the end of chapter one and I do hope you liked it. Any comments regarding the story and any constructive(yet kind) criticism is welcomed by me. (As long as they are nice xD)

Notes on References used in the story:

**Language References:**

1.) "_**Gruss Gott!" :**_(German; translates as "God's Greetings or Blessings") Common greeting phrase used in Austria.

2.) **_"Bonjour._" : **French greeting for "Hello".

3.) _**"Non"**_**: **French for "No".

4.) _**"Monsieur"**_** : **French for "Mister".

5.) _**"Mon ami" **_**: **French for "My friend".

6.) _**"Herr" **_**: **German for "Mister"

**Historical References:**

1.) _Age of Reason* :_ Also termed _The Enlightenment _was a period in European history where people began to question the world around them, with advances in science and increases in philosophy and creative thinking. Spanned from about 1600-1800. Many ideals of today come from this time period such as "All men are created equal".

2.) _Laissez-Faire economics* :_ French for "Let it be"and a type of economics system where the economy "naturally" runs itself without any government interference. (Such as restrictions or tariffs). This concept was gaining popularity during this time period. Notable people connected to this are Quesnay and the Physiocrats in France.

3.) _Cosmopolitan* :_ Definition : A person who is familiar and accepting of many other cultures and countries, "worldly". Another concept gaining popularity during this time period.

4.) _Rousseau* :_ Jean-Jacques Rousseau was a Genevan philosopher best known for his contributions to the Enlightenment with his political philosophy. His works influenced the French Revolution and developments regarding education.

5.) _Treatise on Education* : _Reference to Rousseau's work entitled _Emile _that examines a philosophy of education that divides men and women into two different fields of education. Male education is superior to female education and they are taught separately. Males are taught sciences, math, liberal arts, and are free to be leaders. Women are considered inferior and the education proves to be so by teaching them that they must treat men as superior and learn the domestic arts.

6.) _Requiem* : (Mass of the Dead) _A musical piece for the mass of a deceased person. Most often used during funerals, however, not always.

**Thanks for Reading! :)**


	2. Farewell, My Dear Beloved Vienna

_The Madness Between The Notes_

_ Chapter Two : Farewell, My Dear Beloved Vienna_

Francis looked at Roderich with a glint of anticipation and a look of success written across his features. He finally had found what he was looking for, all this time, going through all the networks and talking to the plain old folk to find this man. The musician, with his long and elegant fingers and a face that just gave off a sense of intelligence and higher stature. It would be intimidating for someone who wasn't Francis, or similar to him, with the air of aristocracy and pure privilege, above all else. Francis knew how people like Roderich ticked, what made them seize moments and offers like this on a whim. Or, perhaps he thought he did. He was familiar with other composers, but failed to realize there is always a break in rhythm or a break in the pattern of the typical. This became known to the Frenchman after the petty argument they had over ideals, and this made him nervous when it came to the musician, and very cautious all the same. Having second thoughts, he looked deeply into Roderich's eyes, curious about what thoughts were within him, but was soon snapped out of his trance when the composer spoke.

"When shall we depart? Soon, I would presume." Roderich looked irritated, glancing away from the uncomfortable stare.

Francis leaned back in his chair, attempting to act as nonchalant as possible in the given situation. "As soon as possible would be preferable. At the latest, I would say Thursday."

"Well, today is Monday, so I suppose that would give me enough time to get all the things in order. Would you like my address to access me further?"

"Sure, I'll pick you up in carriage there at the sunrise of Thursday. If I have to wait a long while and we become behind schedule, I will have to deduct it from your salary." Francis smirked, hoping that he was intimidating the Austrian man just as he did. However, this failed simply because of the fact that Roderich wasn't even aware of the fact that he was intimidating. He just had that stature, and never cared anymore than he would anything else.

"Oh, harsh. I see you've picked up on the fact the I was late today, who wouldn't?" Roderich chuckled, then continued. "Let me tell you, that isn't regularly, but I really focused on looking my best for my client."

"I'm just being straightforward, Mr. Edelstein. I hope you see to being on time, as you claim, don't make late a habit." Francis winked, standing up from the table. "I'll be seeing you Thursday, goodbye."

"To you as well, Mr. Bonaparte."

"Bonnefoy, friend, Bonnefoy."

"My apologies. I just remember someone with that name similar to you." Roderich smiled thoroughly through his lie. Truth was, he never memorized his client's names. Time doing business was short. Roderich thought that names was something trivial that got in the way after the first meeting.

Francis smiled, not appearing to mind at all. He left the money for the morning coffee on the table and walked out of the cafe with a stride of grace.

Roderich sighed. Deep within in his mind he knew that Paris was much more trouble than it was worth. Vienna was lovely, and had an abundance of clients. However, deep within his mind he also knew that he couldn't uphold his aristocratic stature much longer, it was slipping through the cracks, just as his wealth was. Too careless he was, spending all his money on the night life rather than the bills. Roderich Edelstein, the great and wondrous Viennese composer put on the mask of a greedy composer, high and mighty, plagued with greed. The man behind the mask told a much different story, the man who was plagued with need.

As he sat at the cafe table alone with his thoughts, Roderich soon remembered the waitress insulted by Francis over what he considered trivial "enlightened ideals". He saw her tending to another customer, and after she was finished with him he called her over.

"I do apologize about that man acting so barbaric either." Roderich apologized, looking as he could for an apathetic man.

"It's quite alright! It wasn't your fault, Mr. Edelstein." The waitress blushed and held her hand up to her cheek.

"I know, but that's just embarrassing coming from a client of mine."

"Oh is it?"

"Yes. I would to speak with you with your interest in lessons. I'd love to further discuss it at a later date, precisely when I return from Paris."

The waitress smiled with genuine joy. "Why, thank you so much, Mr. Edelstein! When will you be returning to Vienna and when will you be leaving for Paris?"

"When I return to Vienna is still unknown. I am composing a requiem for the man that insulted you. He says it's best I stay where he lives in Paris, double the salary. I'll be leaving on Thursday. I'd love to speak with you concerning lessons at that point, I should have the time for one on one training." Roderich smiled, looking up at the girl. He was willing to treat anyone for any amount of money, oh he so desperately needed it.

"Thank you! I look forward to your return."

"You'll still be here I presume."

"That I know of."

"Alright, miss. I don't think I caught your name."

"My name is Elizabeta Héderváry." She smiled through the strand of a light brown hair that came out of her beret.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Héderváry. I think you know me, but I'm Roderich Edelstein." He smiled taking her hand and chivalrously kissing it.

She blushed all the more. "I must get back to work, but I look forward to working with you! Goodbye!" The waitress waved, smiled as she tended to others in the cafe.

Roderich smiled as she walked away. After a little while of sitting in the cafe and watching the Vienna streets seem to waltz by in it's activity, he decided to get home and start thinking about what he'd have to do before leaving for Paris. The musician laid an extra bit of money on the table and walked out, looking for the waitress but not seeing her. Roderich shrugged it off and made his way into the streets walking towards his home.

The composer arrived at his apartment around the noon hour and laid his hands upon his piano. He began to play a simple piece he wrote long ago, and as his fingers worked themselves from muscle memory, Roderich's mind began to wonder off. He wondered why anyone from Paris would come all the way to Vienna just for him. He was talented and successful and,no doubt, arrogant at times. However, at times like these he wasn't. Roderich Edelstein was well known in Vienna, but he never thought beyond the city. Vienna was all there was, there wasn't a London or a Paris, a Rome or a Madrid. Francis claimed his mother had requested him, but it just didn't seem right to Roderich. Something was wrong, and soon after much thought on the subject he concluded it was one his many bouts of self-doubt, coming to haunt and pry at his mind yet again as it had so many other times.

The few days prior to the departure, Roderich got his things in order, packed his bags, being extra careful in regards to his finest clothing. He packed his favorite pen and ink bottle, the one that he always used to record his composing. The musician knew it was quite silly to have a connection to something as silly as a bottle of ink and a pen, but it meant right much to him, he couldn't leave without it, let alone get a new one. Regarding anything he needed to do with his finance hardly took anytime at all, as brutally honest as the reality was, Roderich had next to nothing. This is the only reason a man such as him, with a personality and essence of harsh winter air, chose to leave and throw himself into an entirely new environment.

On the Wednesday evening before his departure, Roderich found himself unable to fall asleep, knowing so by the restlessness of his heart. He could hear and feel it thumping at a low pace, only to have his mind panic and cause the thumping to grow and loudness and speed. He knew the feeling at too well, ever since he was a child this feeling would arise at times, sometimes with reasoning, at other times without. Roderich arose out of his bed with relief in his mind, knowing that this time it was with reason. Paris was a long ways away for a sheltered person such as him. Having never left Austria, he never cared much about what was going on elsewhere, unless it involved the mother country. He walked over to his windowsill sitting upon it and pulling his knees into his torso. Above, the stars twinkled, although Roderich wasn't quite sure what a star entailed and what a purpose of a star might be. All he knew was that the stars were always and had always been there. On that night they did not fail him at showing themselves and somewhere deep within the composer he knew a star, whatever it was, would never cease to be. As long as he was around on the the soils of nature, he knew they'd be shining down, and even when he ceased to gaze, they'd still be prevalent. This amazed the amazing Roderich Edelstein because he worried over silly things, or at least it seemed to him, like being stuck in Paris for whatever reason, unable to return home. Over even, as morbid as the thoughts may seem, not being to able to die in Vienna, and not being buried there, even if was just in a commoner's grave. He wanted his very soul and essence to woven into the city, and nowhere else. This is why stars were so fascinating to him, they always stayed in place, just like him, until now. He knew that whatever those things up in the sky were, that they didn't have to worry about moving and being plagued with need, they just shine for the eternities, unfaltering. Roderich, after much thought on the subject of cosmos, fell asleep upon the windowsill, gazing at the stars the danced to a score in the Viennese sky.

The sun rose and Roderich opened his eyes slowly, seeing the peek of light above the buildings of the city. He quickly got dressed and gathered his things, looking around his small apartment, knowing it'd be a long while before he dwelled there once again, and shut the door behind him. It was saddening, and he knew it shouldn't be. Time passed like a river's flow, people moved, things changed. The composer couldn't understand why he was so attached to his life and the Austrian city. Nonetheless, he ventured down the stairs and saw the carriage in front of the building, awaiting him. It was a lovely carriage, one with prestige and fanciful designs engraved in it.

"On time, Mr. Edelstein, you kept your word!" Francis smiled, standing in front of the doors to carriage.

"I did indeed!" Roderich smiled walking up to the commissioner.

Francis opened the door with a grin. "Composers first!"

"Thank you, good sir."

"Anytime."

The carriage made it's way around the corner and Roderich's home was out of sight. After seeing it's disappearance, he sighed, looking down at his fidgeting hands as they made their way to the outskirts of the city.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Took, the landlady to the apartments Roderich stayed in, went into his apartment for the daily dusting. Roderich always welcomed the older woman into his home with a smile and allowed her to deal with the trivial housework, as she insisted. As she was carefully dusting the grand piano, she noticed a sheet of compositions laid upon it, and curious she was, decided to see what great work he was doing now. She looked at the first sheet in her hands and sighed lightly as it was titled _"Farewell, My Dear Beloved Vienna."_

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Yuripee here! I hope you enjoyed the 2nd chapter! This one was a bit longer than the first, but oh well. As I was re-reading over this chapter I realized that the way I wrote Roderich reminded a bit of Bilbo Baggins. If I meant to write him similar to Bilbo like that it was on an entirely subconscious level. xD A lot of people are like that, though. They are completely content with staying right where they are and with no adventures! I know many people, even in my own family, like this and it's fascinating to me. I suppose I'm more of an adventurous spirit, but I'd hate to be in one place, one area, one home, for my entire life. And there are some people, like the Roderich I wrote, who are forced into an "adventure" of sorts, or ones like Bilbo, who choose to. Nonetheless, adventure and new things changes the lives of those who partake in it, for better or for worse. You'll find out what kind of adventure this one is soon enough, friends! ;) (Sorry for the tangent on adventuring, haha.)

And also, if you like fandom blogs, I have tumblr : 

(Sorry for the self-promotion as well, but talking about Bilbo Baggins reminded me of it, as I do post a lot of Hobbit things on there(as well as other things), for anyone interested! :D)

Thank you for reading!


	3. Bienvenue à Paris

_The Madness Between the Notes_

_Chapter 3 : Bienvenue à Paris (Welcome to Paris)_

The trip to Paris took longer than Roderich had hoped for. In his mind he played through scores and various symphonies, songs to tick away time. The carriage ride at times wasn't relatively what one would call smooth and many times times Roderich's mind slipped into a state of being that caused him to panic. His head would swim, his pulse would run rampant, and his stomach turned into an acid sea rocking mercilessly and violently here and there. At the very climax of his panic Roderich concluded he was most certainly going to die. However, as much as his mind swam in circles and collapsed in on itself, no one ever noticed. Not even Francis, who sat on the other side of the leather seating with his nose stuck in a book of ideals or writing down ideals of his own. Just as the city of Paris came into view, Roderich thought to himself that his decision to take this trip was definitely a mistake as he felt his body slipping out of his control as it had so many other times before along the journey.

"_Bienvenue à Paris_, Mr. Edelstein!" Francis closed his journal of scribblings and smiled upon seeing his home town. "First we'll stop at your apartment, and then, if you're up for it, I'll show some of finest gatherings in the city."

"That sounds quite nice, thank you." Roderich replied clutching at the fabric of his clothing in an effort to calm himself down.

"Good." Francis winked as they entered the city's cobblestone streets.

The very streets themselves resembled Vienna, cobblestone that seemed to click and scratch upon being walked on, but the air was different. The composer knew it would feel different, but he never expected it to be as nerve wracking as it was.

After some time riding along the busy mid-morning streets, the carriage came to a stop at a building that seemed to blend in like all the others in the city. However, Roderich noted that from building to building, they all had different colors for shutters. This building just happened to have a very lively shade of crimson.

"This is where you'll be staying for our time together, Mr. Edelstein." Francis spoke as he opened the carriage doors. "I'll be showing you your apartment, so please come with me."

Roderich nodded and then sighed. He climbed out of the carriage and grabbed his suitcases, only two of them, one for his clothing, the other for his composing tools and a book or two, and walked to the front of the building. Francis grinned at the building as though it held the answers to pure truth and walked up to the door. Opening it, he beckoned Roderich to follow him.

"Your apartment is on the third floor and is 22A, it's the first one you see after climbing the stairs, so it should be easy to remember. I must warn you, it's not the largest, but it should be at the least comfortable." Francis spoke as he guided Roderich up stairs that seemed murky and could use a cleaning. At last they arrived on the third floor and Roderich spotted 22A quickly and some found himself with a key in hand, supplied by Francis of course, and standing in front of the door. The door and the hallway it was on had a brownish red color, and it was as though it was painted the same color as the shutters outside, but had had faded over time. The composer put on the key into the lock and turned it, completely forgetting about the Frenchman standing behind him.

When Roderich stepped into the Paris apartment he was, to say the least, astonished. It was small, with a bedroom and a sitting area, a small corner table, and a piano by the window. The furnishings had elegant patterns and looked as though no soul had ever used them. The one room itself seemed like the embodiment of an upper class lifestyle. Even though Roderich surrounded himself with the higher class, he was never blessed with it's essence.

"It's amazing, I thank you for such a fine place to stay in." Roderich spoke as he set his suitcases down and walked over to the grand piano by the window and ran his index finger along the keys.

"Play something! Make sure it's to your liking! I searched for the finest piano I could, and this is it. If you don't like it, I'm sure I could find you another." Francis walked to Roderich's side with a small smile, he was quite pleased and relieved with the composer's reaction to the apartment.

"All right. I'll play a short piece." Roderich sat on the piano bench and flexed his fingers. His ran through his mental archive of pieces and remembered one very short one he created when he was just a boy of five years old. He smiled to himself as nostalgia trickled into his mind like droplets of water.

He played through the very short piece and then added a few things here and there to add to it's longevity. He then added a fanciful flavor to it and concluded with a small smile directed at the Frenchman. "How was that?" He asked.

"Lovely! Exquisit! What was this piece?" Francis asked with curiosity lighting his eyes.

"It's a fairly old piece, one of my first. I wrote when I was a small boy around five. At the time it was for my mother and when I was small I titled it _"For Mother"_ but over the course of the years I added to it and did revisions and I retitled it _"Mother Dearest"_." Roderich sighed and ran through his years and the ones he spent with his mother. A hint of remorse washed over him and he remembered her funeral and the pieces he wrote for it. The compositions themselves he burned afterwards, but they never seemed to leave his mind and haunted him every now and again.

Francis put his arm around Roderich's shoulders as he could see the sadness arising in his eyes, but wasn't aware of why. "It's beautiful. There something in your eyes that express melancholy. Let's diminish that, shall we? There's a great cafe down the street that serves the best pastries and coffee of Paris."

Roderich smiled a smile that expressed appreciation and walked with Francis to the cafe. It's layout was similar to that of the cafe in Vienna, which made Roderich think of the very friendly and blushing young waitress the he encountered there.

Francis and Roderich sat down at a table by the window and both ordered coffee. Roderich intently focused on the bustling life on the other side of the glass and thought deeply about various things, including his mother. Soon fresh pastries came and the two started a conversation.

"Can you please tell me where the nearest cathedral is? I'd like to attend mass." Roderich asked, taking a sip of his coffee. He wasn't the most religious person to be actively practicing Catholicism, but he did like to attend mass and sacraments and always felt comforted with knowing he could go the church when needed.

"Ah, yes! Perhaps tomorrow you and I can attend mass together? I do not quite recall the location as it has been a long while, the carriage driver knows and he can take us."

"Alright. Tomorrow for the morning mass then?"

"Certainly. Then we can discuss the requiem together."

"Sounds like a good idea. I better go back to the apartment to unpack. I'll be seeing you." Roderich gave a slight smile and arose from the cafe table.

"Farewell!" Francis called back without moving from the table. He thought it would be best if he let Roderich go on his own, for a reason unknown to him. Francis wanted to ask if Roderich to see some more places around town but knew that he wouldn't be up for it. He had become fond of the composer along the journey to Paris, and even though their relationship had started with a pretty argument that didn't matter anymore. Francis hoped the relationship would remain pleasant and friendly as it had grown to be.

Roderich walked along the street and turned the corner, searching for the building with the crimson shutters. He looked up at the sky to see that it was mid-afternoon. Eventually he came upon the apartment building and climbed the stairs to 22A. He felt content with the plans of attending mass in the early morning. It had been a long while since he had done so, since it had taken quite some time to arrive in Paris. He unpacked his suitcases and placed his composing sheets by the piano with his favorite ink bottle and pin. Roderich sighed and laid on the couch with the elegant engravings and spoke to himself. "Paris is more pleasant than I thought it be, but anxiousness is what still dwells in my soul."

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**Author's Note:**

Hello again! I just like to thank all the follows and feedback I've gotten from this piece! I really appreciate it and really means a lot to me to see that people are enjoying my work. 3 Anyway, I know this chapter took a bit longer than usual. I was making a habit of posting a new chapter every Friday or Saturday, but I got sick and couldn't really focus on writing for a few weeks. Sorry about that! I don't want to be a writer that only updates once every eon. xD I'm trying to keep it as regular as possible, but that may not always be so due to school and other things so please bear with me! :)

I hope you enjoyed and thanks for reading!

-Yuripee


	4. A Console To Torment

**There is a scene in this chapter with some blood and such. Nothing too graphic, but just a warning for those who aren't too fond of it. **

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_The Madness Between The Notes_

_ Chapter 4 : A Console To Torment_

_**"Art is to console those who are broken by life."**__ — Vincent Van Gogh ~ ◆_

The next day the carriage came for Roderich when dawn was barely peeking over the top of buildings. Francis greeted a friendly hello in his native tongue while the carriage slowly creaked along cobblestone streets slightly gaining speed with distance. It didn't take long to reach the cathedral and upon seeing it Roderich felt a small twinge of relief within the deep ocean of his soul. Cathedrals always gave him such a feeling, whether it was the presence of a higher power seeping into his skin, or if it was the sheer beauty of buildings such as these themselves, Roderich couldn't conclude. After little thought on the subject, he concluded that it was both that mixed together in such a wondrous manner that it calmed a soul as troubled as his.

When he entered the cathedral, the musician took a deep breath in and heard the voice of his Frenchman friend. "Lovely, isn't it?" Francis smiled. "I'd say this one may as well be the finest in France."

"Seems like it could be so." Roderich walked further into the cathedral and took a seat in one of the pews, looking above him to see a ceiling so high he wondered if anyone could be heard from the top of it. Francis took a seat beside him and neither of them said a word as the mass began. Roderich got lost in it and felt completely disconnected from everything other than his calmness, and by the end, he felt refreshed. After the mass, he followed Francis outside and listened as he spoke with people he knew, greeting them and wishing them good day. Roderich was quite surprised at the amount of people Francis acquainted himself with, but with his aristocratic nature it wasn't out of the ordinary.

"Oh, Francis! Lovely day, isn't it?" An older woman greeted in a friendly manner.

"Why, yes, Mrs. Lewis, it is!" Francis responded with a smile.

"Haven't you heard?" The old woman with the gray hair and a face worn down with the passage of time asked.

"Heard what? I hear much, not a lot that's important, but much indeed!" Francis chuckled to himself and placed his hands in his trouser pockets.

"Mrs. Clark has died within the last few days. It was a shame, she was the mother of a few children."

Roderich wasn't particularly paying attention to Francis and his conversations until this point. Upon hearing the words "died" and "mother" within the same string of breath, he turned attention to the two as nonchalantly as he could, not that they seemed to notice.

"That is quite a shame. Do you know why? She was such a pleasure always!" Francis looked sorrowful, but not completely devastated, which led Roderich to the conclusion that she was just an acquaintance or he was just really skilled in hiding pain.

"Well, she was feeling ill and told her son. The son got the doctor and she was soon bled so she could spill all that toxic blood, but not long after, she simply died!"

"A shame! The spilling of those toxins should have saved her!" Francis looked fairly shocked, as though the loss of toxic blood should have cured the illness, whatever it may have been.

At this point Roderich's eyes had widened beyond what was normal for him and his heart raced more than it should. He could feel years of suppressed emotion weltering through his subconscious, and in that moment he quickly and abruptly excused himself to the carriage and practically ran to it.

No one was in the carriage when he arrived, not even a driver, much to his relief. He sat on the leather seats and anxiously ran his hands through his hair. His emotions towards his mother returned, the guilt, the anger, the sorrow, all of it. Musical pieces that he tried to burn came screeching back into his mind like a severely untuned instrument. Just as he was about to relive his torment just as it happened so long ago, Francis opened the door to the carriage.

"Are you alright, Roderich?" He asked with more anxiousness and concern than he did with the old woman.

"Yes-"

"Don't lie to me. Something back there sparked emotion inside of you. Whether it was something said, or just your own thoughts I know not. Whatever it was sent you running for the hills!"

"Well, it's a long story.." Roderich broke eye contact with Francis and looked down at his hands that clutched the fabric of his pants.

"All the more reason to tell me." Francis smiled gently and showed an expression full of support, for what he wasn't sure of just yet.

"Why do you want to know? All you did was hire me to work for you."

"We both know we're closer than that, don't be silly. Three months of travel, we've gotten to know each other pretty well."

Roderich sighed. Francis was right, they had spent a lot of time together, the most time he'd ever spent within someone who was commissioning him. Francis had helped him through more than he'd like to admit, and they were closer than he thought they'd ever be.

"I know, I'm sorry...It's just I…" Roderich paused for a moment searching through an endless sea of racing thoughts and musical pieces that seemed to play themselves to find what to say. "I am just filled with some unsorted emotions in regards to something that happened long ago. My mother, you see, died after she was bled."

"I see. You have my apologies." Francis softly put his hand on Roderich's shoulder for the sake of sympathetic comfort, but after a moment drew away.

"I feel guilt because out of all the years and all the symphonies and scores, I didn't even write my mother a proper requiem for her funeral. Just a few pieces, after which I burned."

"Perhaps the one you'll write here will bring you closure?"

"Perhaps. But it isn't for my mother, it's for yours."

"Dedicate it to your mother. Every artist owns their work to some extent, there is always a piece of themselves within it. Dedicate to piece to your mother, and I will dedicate it to mine." Francis smiled to Roderich and Roderich did the same, a small amount of guilt left his soul. Another piece of torment that broke away from it's creator, and for that, the musician was relieved.

Later that evening Roderich went to lie down running through ideas in his head. A half note here, maybe a rest here, a time signature of this or that. These were all things he wanted for a requiem, but the notes that presented themselves just didn't fit. He tried scribbling them down on a piece of paper, jabbing at keys on a piano, nothing really worked. His mind was elsewhere, and he just didn't have the concentration that he should. All his thoughts reverted themselves back to his mother. The talk with Francis had helped his conscious, but it just could not erase all the ash that filled his mind and suffocated it slowly. He told Francis the truth, he couldn't lie about what had happened. However, he didn't tell the whole story, for he was too ashamed if it.

Roderich's mother did indeed die shortly after she was bled. She had a high fever and was on bedrest, too weak and fragile she was, and there wasn't a thing the woman could do to help herself.

"Mother, I think we should call a doctor." Roderich stated, looking at his mother with concern and anxiousness sprinkled across his delicate features.

"Ah, if you think it would help, my son. I don't know what he can do for me." She answered in a weak and watered down voice, one that had said so much over the course of time, worn down by life itself.

"He'll bleed you I'm sure." Roderich sighed, hating that methods like that had to be done. If only something less painful and gruesome was an option, oh how he'd barter for it, perhaps even give up his own soul.

Roderich contacted the doctor for an emergency appointment, but he didn't come. By this time, the state of his mother had grown worse. She had fallen into slumber and wouldn't wake up, not even with pinch of the skin or the sound of the rain clashing with the windowsill to form a _pitter-patter_. Roderich got anxious, wondering if his mother would simply slip away into eternity without giving the doctor a chance to help her stay grounded. He knew somewhere within himself that he should take some sort of action to help her. He had already done most of what he could, but seldom is that enough. Then, he thought to himself, it shouldn't be too difficult, bleeding someone. I could do myself, take the vein, cut careful and clean. The doctor's not here, I have to do what I can.

In that moment Roderich had decided something that would torment him for all the seasons to come. To cut his own mother's veins, so that all the poisons that were slowly seeping into her and suffocating her insides would run free upon old and whitened skin. Roderich did indeed gather himself and his courage, in pieces, to do what he thought was right. However, it didn't work as intended, if it had it would be one less thing that tormented his soul. He cut the vein in the arm, like he'd seen a doctor do so many times, even on himself once or twice. Something he did wasn't right, or so he thought, for he couldn't stop the bleeding, even after he thought it to be enough. After many tries at tying a proper tourniquet, none of which worked to any benefit, Roderich slumped to the floor with bloodied hands weeping without a sound. Unbeknownst to him, his mother did die shortly after while he lie in an abyss of his own failure.

Only when someone woke him did he come to realization of the events that had taken place, but he wasn't until someone had tried to tell him first.

"Sir, don't you know?" They asked.

"Know what?" He asked in return.

"Sir, has no one told you she's not breathing? She has passed."

"Wha-"

"I am so sorry."

Soon after his mother's death Roderich entered a state of denial as psychological instincts had told him to. He swore to the highest of the heavens that they were wrong, mistakes were made. He denied the fact within himself that it was a possibility that he had cut his mother's life short and let her slip away droplet by droplet. He denied even trying to do so when anyone asked, he lied and said it was someone else, this person or that. No one questioned, and this was something Roderich was relieved and puzzled by.

Next, after time passed and things changed course, Roderich became angry, at himself mostly. He wracked his own mind, questioning why he did what he did. This phase lasted a short while, but passed to led to something more long lasting. The next step in his grief was depression. Throughout his life, Roderich had sadness lingering and swimming about his consciousness, but never to the severity it was at this point. He felt hopeless and alone, his thoughts his only company, oh how he longed for someone to share in his misery. Years and years delving deeper into a garden of darkness. His only console his music, something he bled all his misery and torment into, something that expressed his innermost thoughts in the rawest manner possible. The last stage in his grief was acceptance, which came little by little, accompanying his depression but never curing him of it. Roderich accepted that his mother had died and ascended, but he would never accept how she did so. Roderich also accepted the fact he was sure he would descend rather than ascend.

This is why Roderich composed, even before his mother's death, the reasoning was always the same. It was to console a life of misery. This was the purest reason for all the symphonies and compositions, the short ones, the long ones. Looking back, Roderich realized throughout all his years, his music was seldom played in a happy and joyful tone. It was deep, it was sorrowful, it was full of pain. People still adorned him and begged him for more, they craved it, they admired it, the let their ears soak in it. But, they never did know, and most never would. They never would know that the music performed was the product of someone else's pain. They didn't know such a genius could wallow in such pain, they didn't know that most times greatness and madness go hand-in-hand. What is the difference between greatness and madness? _There is seldom a difference._

_The first reason as to why Roderich Edelstein was The Plagued Pianist : He was plagued with guilt. _

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**Author's Note:**

Hey there! Sorry this chapter took a few weeks. I felt like this chapter had a lot to it, but perhaps that's just me. xD I wanted to write more in regards to the mass scene, but decided to skip off on it due to me not really knowing how to describe one. I am not Catholic, and never have attended a mass of any sort, but my characters are so I wanted to incorporate into the story at some point.

As for the mentions of bleeding, the method that was used is historically called **Blood-letting.** It was used for around 2,000 years and didn't really fade out in Europe until the late 18th century. It was basically the belief that withdrawal of small quantities of blood would cure someone. Most times it just made things worse, but in some cases helped relieve high blood pressure.

I also referred to Roderich's grief as occuring in phases, which I drew from the **Kübler-Ross model **which is also know as the **five stages of grief. ** The five stages of grief according to this model go in the order of denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. I skipped over bargaining and went straight to depression because I couldn't really find a good way to incorporate it into the story.

And just to warn, I think this story's just gonna get darker from here on out, sorry if that's not your thing.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. :)

-Yuripee


	5. To Paint The Sky

_The Madness Between The Notes_

_Chapter 5 : To Paint The Sky_

Roderich awoke the morning after his first visit to the Paris cathedral feeling unrested and unfulfilled with his slumber. He had once again lived the moments with his mother, all the ones he could gather from the inner workings of his mind, the joyful ones, and the one specific one that tormented him the most. That one in particular attacked his mind like a plague and reminded him that he was of sin again and again. Even to be forgiven by the highest power would not rid of the memory that infested his mind much like vermin. And it was on mornings such as these where Roderich lost the most of himself to his own thoughts and his own intuition.

It wasn't until there was a knock at the door that Roderich snapped into his senses of reality. He answered the door to see Francis, his face cherry-kissed from the brisk air of the French capital.

"Good Morning, Roderich! How are you feeling today?" Francis asked with a light amount of concern in his voice while taking off his autumn coat and setting it on the coat rack the color of auburn.

"Ah, better than previously, thankfully. How about you?" Roderich smiled sitting on one of the heavily embroidered sofas.

"I'm doing quite well on this morning." Francis took his seat across from the composer fondling with his fingers in a fidgeting manner.

"Great to hear."

"What do think of Paris thus far my Austrian friend?" The Frenchman asked with much curiosity, hoping the that the man opposite of him hadn't regretted his decisions in regards to the past few months.

"It's a pleasant capital, it's not a disappointment if that's what you thought I was thinking. Only, I do apologize but I don't know much about French customs."

"Ah, that's quite alright! In the beginning, one can only see black and white. However, someone's black and white is another's color. Isn't it about time we all gathered our acrylics and bristles to paint the hues of each other's sky?"

Roderich smiled at the poetic response. It was something so soft and gentle, that response, something that really struck a chord within the musicians mind. He knew Francis wrote, he wrote all the time on their carriage ride together. He only wondered if his music was just as gentle.

"How poetic of you, but if only my music was the same." Roderich sighed and tapped his fingers against the arm of his sofa.

"Well, I'd say it is, but I'll never convince you so." Francis chuckled crossing his legs that bore satin. "And you'll never convince me I'm poetic, certainly I am not!"

They both chuckled at what they thought of themselves. However light it was at times like these, they both knew that their perfectionist attitudes made them fall and burn at one point or another.

"I can't say this lightly, but I received word that my mother has died. This past night, ah but I knew it all along didn't I? That's why you're here." Francis sighed, trying to hold back tears.

"There is never a time in your life when you're ready for such a thing. No matter how prepared or how many times you go over scenarios and reaction in your head, you're never ready." Roderich looked on with sympathy and put a comforting hand on the other man's shoulder.

"Oh I know it to be so! How was I so blind to not see that it is only a heartbeat that separates us from death!"

"We never accept that until we come face to face with it."

"Of course, of course."

"Perhaps we should get something to eat?" Roderich suggested with a light and gentle sincerity in his voice, the best he could given he had never really the one comforting someone rather, the one being comforted.

"Perhaps later, if you'd like, we can get a drink. I'll just go and straighten a few things out for now."

Roderich nodded, trying to think of the last time he'd had given himself a drink, or even been invited to do so, for he couldn't remember.

"I'll be seeing you." Francis grabbed his coat and walked out in a sorrowful manner.

Roderich looked on as Francis shut the door, trying not to look as though he had pity of any kind. He knew that it only made things worse, pity never made anyone feel as though they were saved. He tried not to think of all those who pitied him when his mother died.

Later on when the moonlight shone through the buildings and onto the piano of 22A, Francis returned. He knocked on the door swiftly quite a few times. Roderich answered, looking just as he did earlier in the day but displayed eyes that looked run down with the passing of day.

"Good to see you again, Francis." Roderich smiled, stepping out of the apartment and into the darkened hallway.

"You as well, Roderich." Francis smiled lightly showing eyes that were barren like the cobblestone streets of night.

They walked along the streets until they reached a window that shone with candlelight, bright and illuminating in the darkness.

"There." Francis said, his walk gaining speed as his breath dissipated into the cold.

They walked up to the door and Francis opened it, gesturing Roderich inside. When they walked in the only thing separating this tavern from the one in Vienna was the strings of French floating through the air. For an instance, it made the composer homesick and longing for everything he left behind.

However, he soon was snapped out of a nostalgic trance when Francis guided him to a few tables in the corner. They both sat and not too soon after, a waiter walked over to take orders, Francis ordering them both liquor.

"Ah, I haven't had liquor in quite some time, friend." Roderich said, a bit nervous, for he wasn't quite sure how his body would take to it.

"Me either, but why not tonight? It's as good as any." Francis responded

"I suppose you're right."

They drank much, and long throughout the night as well. Francis seemed to talk out of his head, Roderich did the same. They didn't know what they were saying, although everyone else took notice. It wasn't long until a man walked into the room, gently putting a hand onto Francis's shoulder, and sighing in an annoying manner.

"Francis, dear friend, what is it that you're doing?" He spoke.

"Ah, a drink, a toast to my friend! Dear, dear, lofty and loyal friend! You've put up with this ass of a lad long enough, haven't you?" Francis smiled and hiccuped through his next drink.

"There isn't any reason at all as to why you are doing this." The man responded.

Then Roderich took time to take notice this stranger of a man even through his fuzzed vision and malfunctioning mind. He had never once seen him around Francis, and wondered why. He had dusty white hair and was quite tall. Not many had his type of physique at all.

"Excuse me, good sir!" Roderich spoke, stumbling through his words, however not quite as lively as Francis. "May I ask you are who?"

The man sighed, looking around the room for a moment.

"No time for formalities, Francis, let's go."

"But don't leave Roderich! Such a helpless soul he is! Didn't you hear? His mother was bled half to death." Francis protested.

"I'm sure Mr. Roderich will manage." The white-haired man responded.

At this time Roderich was to the point that he didn't really notice the fact that Francis had just mentioned his mother, he was so drunk not much mattered.

"But don't you know, sirs! I am not a wad of dimwitted aristocracy! I am the Edel-!" Roderich stopped, his head spinning with music notes and pieces that formed atrocities in his head. With so many things swimming through his mind, he couldn't even properly piece together his own name.

"Well, that's wonderful. Goodbye." The white- haired man ushered the drunken Francis out of the tavern and into the dark cobblestone streets, him blabbering all the same.

"Don't forget to sky paint, dear Francis!" Roderich called out, soon after slumping into his seat at the table, now alone. After some time the virtuoso blacked out completely.

Roderich awakened to the bright light of early morning. All he could see was the ceiling, and it wasn't the dark brown color of the tavern. He leaned up, clutching his head and groaning in agony.

"Ah, you're awake. How are you, lad?" A voice spoke, one he didn't quite recognize.

"Where am I?" Roderich asked, his hands searching his face for glasses that weren't there.

"I should explain. You don't remember last night, do you?" The man spoke handing Roderich his glasses.

"I remember going to a tavern with my friend, Francis. After that, it is all quite a blur." The composer responded, putting his glasses back onto his face, everything much more clear than before, not to the help of his headache.

"You were a wasted man if I have ever seen one! After your friend left, it didn't seem like you knew how to get home. I asked you for your address a few times, but all you said was 'Vienna' over and over again. I certainly wasn't going to leave you there, it's quite dangerous after closing time! So, I brought you here to my apartment. I should've introduced myself by now, my name is Arthur Kirkland."

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Kirkland. I'm Roderich Edelstein." Roderich sat up all the way and looked at the other man, who had sandy blond hair and deep emerald eyes that looked as though they reflected the forest.

"So I've heard, through your ramblings." Arthur chuckled lightly getting up crossing the room. "Tea to sooth that head of yours, perhaps?"

"Alright, thank you very much. But why did you bring me here, you really could've left me out on the streets."

"I really wouldn't do that to you, perhaps to someone else, but not you. I recognized the name as soon as you said it! A fine composer you are, I never thought I'd find you outside the walls of Vienna."

"I really didn't think so either."

"Life surprises us all now doesn't it?" Arthur spoke as he passed Roderich a cup full of tea.

"Appears to be so." Roderich responded, taking a sip of the tea, the taste spreading through his mouth in a spice-filled sea of pleasure. "I should really thank you, I'm new to town honestly. I didn't think Francis would walk out on me, I do remember that much."

"You're Welcome, lad. Now, I did see that. Strange man he went with."

"I'm not entirely sure of who he is." Roderich sighed, wondering who that strange man was, and why Francis had never really mentioned him before.

"I seen him around, a mysterious one he is. Don't know his name, but he always acts as though he is on business."

Roderich and Arthur talked for a while, getting to know each other well. Roderich learned that Arthur was from England and in Paris on a business trip, a situation similar to his. He felt better knowing that someone else was feeling the same, and it calmed his soul a bit. After a while, Roderich thought it would best to get home and try to get a hold of Francis, he was a bit worried about him.

"I should get going, I'd hate to burden you any more. I also need to find Francis."

"It's not problem at all. It's a pleasure to talk to you, Mr. Edelstein. Perhaps we should stay in touch."

"Certainly. Here's my address. To be quite honest, I'm not sure how to get there from here."

"I know where that is, I walk you home." Arthur smiled, grabbing his jacket and handing Roderich his.

"Thank you."

"Shall we go?"

"Of course."

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**Author's Note**: Hello there again! Sorry this took almost a month! I've been busy, along with a long bout of no motivation to be quite honest! ^^' I did introduce a few new characters to this chapter, and they'll be back for sure. I hope you enjoyed and I'd like to thank you for reading this far into the story! :)

-Yuripee


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